


Everglow

by Smauglicious



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 03:37:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11843190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smauglicious/pseuds/Smauglicious
Summary: The aftermath of the first time they shared a bed, morning fluff.Soon enough, there was a soft breath of sigh as the bed rustles. John scoots himself closer to Sherlock as the arm round his waist tightens. John's hand that was slack on the bed rises and drags itself across the silk and up, his palm resting on the flat of Sherlock's back. There was a kiss on the forehead, soft and comforting and so very much needed.Then Sherlock felt the tug and soon he was engulfed in all of John, arms wrapped around him, tender and rough at the same time. The thrums of John's heart, the scent that acutely reminded Sherlock of John. Tea, biscuits, mittens.





	Everglow

 

It was the early morning where the quiet bustling of the people on streets could be heard at a distance, cars and buses honking, rushing their way towards its destination. 

The rays of sunlight seep into the room, creating a soft glow that descends on the warmth of the bedroom. The ghost of a breath could be felt beside Sherlock, right at the hollow of his neck, warm and grounding, just like the weight over his waist, wrapping him round loosely. 

He had dreamt of this exact situation enough times with deep yearning and pounding, lonely nights to hesitate at the rawness of it all. Could this be real? Or was he too far gone, that desperation had turned into the inability to cope, and he was still alone in the dark, dingy and damp alley. Shooting up happiness in the form of liquid, wasting his life away, because nothing mattered? That this could be a figment of his imagination, the scent, sound, touch, all a betrayal of his acute brain left him reeling in disgust and hatred. 

He dare not to open his eyes, for the fear of accepting the fact that he had gone positively mad. His breath quickens at the denial of such a situation, wishing for what could only be seen as, the desire to run away. The comforting warmth of the bed slowly turns into the cold hard jarring ground of the alleys, gritty and littered with haphazard rubbish. 

His loose grip on the duvet tightens as he scrunches his eyebrows up, trying a breath as it hitched in a rather unflattering way. He could feel the pressure and panic that was rapidly building, fill his lungs and chest as a wave of sadness and loneliness wash over him. The rising lump in his throat suffocates him for a moment as it threatens to overspill into something ugly and desperate. 

He wasn't going to be able to handle it anymore, couldn't separate what was reality to figment. Couldn't-

"Hello. " A voice by the side of him rushes into his ears with a jerk as a non comical sound of a wounded animal erupted in the quietness of the room, guessing it to be non other than himself. 

There was silence for a moment as Sherlock tried to regain his breath after the initial attempt to shy away from the voice. 

"Are you alright? " The voice, John, speaks again, softly and filled to the brim with care and love and worry. 

Sherlock could feel tears dripping down his face, he realised, wetting his cheeks and creating a spread of red across his cheeks, embarrassment, at this on the offhand, failure of controlling his own emotions. 

Soon enough, there was a soft breath of sigh as the bed rustles. John scoots himself closer to Sherlock as the arm round his waist tightens. John's hand that was slack on the bed rises and drags itself across the silk and up, his palm resting on the flat of Sherlock's back. There was a kiss on the forehead, soft and comforting and so very much needed. 

Then Sherlock felt the tug and soon he was engulfed in all of John, arms wrapped around him, tender and rough at the same time. The thrums of John's heart, the scent that acutely reminded Sherlock of John. Tea, biscuits, mittens.

John. 

The palm that rested on the small of Sherlock's back grounded him as John traced small soothing circles with his thumb, humming as the voice vibrated across John's body, his adam apple bobbing as he swallows and licks his chapped lips. 

"Open your eyes. " John encouraged, nudging slightly. His calloused hand placed itself on Sherlock's cheek, the pad of his thumb sliding across Sherlock's tear streaked face in an attempt to comfort. 

Finding his way to John, Sherlock's hand grips the hem of John's shirt, holding it up tightly in his hands. A failed attempt at a deep breath as Sherlock faltered, his eyelashes fluttered as he forces himself to open his eyes. 

Light floods his vision, making him flinch a little at the stark difference of what he had imagined. Light and then, eyes. 

John's eyes. 

Blue, like the calm and deep of the ocean, like the vastness of the sky and beyond. 

And creases between his eyebrows and a small quirk of the lips. 

"There you are. " John replied as he exhaled, breath tickling Sherlock's curls. He smiles and pushes himself closer to Sherlock. 

" Did something happen? Did I misunderstood...? " John confesses embarrassed, doubt dimming his eyes as he shifted in the warm cocoon that they had made. 

" You have to tell me Sherlock - Or did I hurt you? Was I too rough last night? You need to tell me, does it hurt? Is that why? " Confusion and steadfast alarm dawning on him, clearing the haziness of the early morning as John searched Sherlock's face for answers. His lips pinching slightly with worry, sleep tousled hair against the pillow. 

Sherlock bit back a remark, opting to snuggle impossibly closer to John. John, that he can now love freely, even more, he had gave John all that he has and can offer. 

"No, don't be daft. " Sherlock replied, brashly wiping away the tears with the back of his hand." Nothing of that sought, I do love you John. Have I not said enough? " Sherlock replied with a hint of amusement as relief flooded through his own system, finding that it had been a miracle that he wasn't hallucinating. That it was so very real. 

" You didn't hurt me, it wasn't bad. In fact it was so good that I had- thought - " Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment and hummed," Hmm. I thought it would have been- a figment of my imagination-"

Sherlock slumped in defeat, "Thought this." He gestured between the two of them and their surrounding, "wasn't real."

"But it is, I know. It's a huge contrast from what I have imagined. Pardon if I need sometime to adjust myself." Sherlock whispered, conscious of his own failings. Hardly a good partner that could match what John deserves, but he would try his best. 

John's eyes widened in surprise, his knuckles brushing over Sherlock's cheekbones, who eyes casted down almost in shame. "Oh." John managed to stutter a reply as an ache lays its nest in John's chest. "Oh." 

He licks his lips as he dips down to kiss the crown of Sherlock's head, breathing in what could non other than be Sherlock. 

"You're beautiful and I love you. Last night was amazing, thank you. Thank you for being here with me. " John urges, his hand finding his way into Sherlock's slack hand as he held it. 

There was a returning squeeze and a muffled answer. 

" There's no need to be sorry. " 

" Hmm. "

" Well, breakfast? "

" Breakfast. "


End file.
